Heart of Ash
by cerieblue819
Summary: Zelda's musings during a particularly painful dinner with Ganondorf and Link. Slightly AU for the Ocarina of Time universe.


I can barely contain the hate as I tear into the soft bread. I smile, of course, but these sorts of court activities bore me until I am counting the stitches in my serving woman's cloak or the lines in the grain of the wood on the polished table. Link kicks me from time to time: apparently my face is starting to betray the boredom to all of my patrons.

I cannot help the bitterness. I am sitting here essentially ceding half of my kingdom to the Gerudo king for nothing short of blackmail. It is a king's ransom that he has asked for and I, as a princess, am giving it to him. I managed to work my way out of the marriage contract, allowing him to take both Lake Hylia and the southern portion of Hyrule Field in addition to his own lands in the west.

I had hoped to conquer the land to the west, reclaim the desert for Hyrule and the crown, but the tactical advances of the Gerudo warriors were impossible to defend against. Most of my soldiers are farmers or the sons of farmers: they may be trained by the finest swordsman in the land, but they still only have so much talent to work with on an elemental level. None of them had really powerful magic, unlike the Gerudo. Those from the desert were driven by their own mysticism, their own fanaticism.

I sigh, my daydream only carrying me through a few precious minutes of this still-interminable dinner. We are to the second course now, the tureens of soup whisked away and my bread replaced with fresh. I tear another piece, the honey-sweet bread nearly turning to ashes in my mouth as I hear Ganondorf prattle on as if the entire war was a misunderstanding.

Misunderstanding, hah! I would like for him to go to Sir Cadfael's young wife and son and explain to him that his bloody death in the fields outside his home was a mere misunderstanding. I would like to see him kneel in abject horror among the bloody and the broken, seeing his people in pain and doing the best he could to heal them but there be just too many, too much carnage for one hand to heal.

Then, yes then, I would like him to come to me and talk about how it was a misunderstanding. As if we were mere children! Oh yes, Ganon, may I call you Ganon? I say, it was horrible the way we fought and I never meant to kill so few of your troops while you were invading the land given to me by birth and divine right. Really? We can be friends? That would be splendid!

I am muttering under my breath again and Link gives me another sharp look, kicking me beneath the table again. I want to roll my eyes at him but that would only serve to draw more attention to the fact that I am just pushing the pushing the fine, flaky fish around on my plate. A gift from Lake Hylia, Ganondorf says, as if I should be so happy to receive a gift from the lake that is rightly mine.

I stab the fish, drawing my knife down in a straight line where the spine had once been. I imagine it is Ganondorf, that the pale flesh cleaving beneath my hand is turn to green and that the brown sauce is brighter, akin to blood. It is a pleasant fantasy, beautiful in its macabre, and I entertain it just a little longer, bringing the fish to my lips and chewing thoughtfully as Link talks about some treaty or another.

In all my reading, I never understood cultures that ate their dead. Wisdom could not be obtained from anything other than the Goddesses (bless Nayru) or studying books and manuscripts. But still, those savages remained, those not yet touched by the blessings of the Goddesses and the Triforce, who engaged in the nature religions and ate their dead, assimilating their knowledge.

I pretend I am one of those, a noble savage princess clothed only in deerskin and beholden to no man, no treaty. I am free from corsets, slippers and ribbons and have only my own skin, my own heartbeat. He is a powerful man, the man who has died, and I carve his flesh with the desire of assuming that mantle. I hope that it will mix with my own nature, become an alloy of some sort and inherently more powerful than either element alone.

That line of thought gets me through the second course and I chew my almonds thoughtfully, my lips quirking into a soft smile. Link catches that smile and returns his own and I feel bad for a moment: he cannot possibly realize what sorts of homicidal thoughts I am harboring. Later, perhaps, I will tell him of my thoughts and see what he thinks, then temper it with the delusion that it was all a joke. He would certainly think so.

My thoughts turn to him as the nuts are taken away and replaced with braised beef glazed with a heavy, honey-based sauce. He was old enough to marry now and, being a commoner, was not saddled with the burden of choosing a woman based on political alliances and the potential for good breeding stock. Breeding stock, hah. I try to imagine myself as one of Talon's cows.

Why Zelda! You have birthed such beautiful twins! Both are free from marks and will fetch a pretty penny at market. Perhaps Malon can get new ribbons with the milk money, you'll be producing much more since the birth. As soon as you have weaned the calfs, do make yourself available to the next stud, bring us more. Royal cattle indeed.

I eat the beef, savoring the taste for the briefest of moments before a bubble of laughter escapes my lips: if I am royal cattle, I am currently engaging in crude cannibalism. At the sharp glances from Ganondorf and Link, I wince and apologize. It is a smooth apology, a royal pardon of apologies.

Both seem to accept it, even though Link's eyebrows shoot to his hairline in disbelief. I give him a look, hoping that the smile on my face distracts the other diners from the pleading in my eyes. He relents, going back to his conversation, easily picking it up as if it were a bit of yarn unraveled by a kitten.

I would like a kitten, I think. That is my next line of thought and I hope it will carry me through to the end of the sweets course and back up to my tower to retire. If I had one, I would name it Lady Branwen the Wise. She would be a noble creature--hardly one to think of cannibalism and savage cultures while having a perfectly serviceable supper with the captain of her guard and the...well, Ganondorf hardly deserves the credit he gives himself. I will give him none of my own credence.

Lady Branwen will consider Link a dear friend. It is only fitting, given his hatred of cats. Most animals bend to his will easily: Goddesses know warhorses heed his call as if he were their kith and kin. But kittens, well...kittens are contrary creatures. I like to think of myself as a kitten, as a contrary creature making her own way through the world. That makes me smile as I finish the beef and daintily wipe my mouth, reaching to take a sip of wine and clean my palate before eating the sweets course.

Sweets make me happiest. It is honey-glazed peaches today: the Gerudo, for all their nomadic nature, have an intimate understanding of how the natural world works. At least the scientist at Lake Hylia can be comforted that his beehives will not fall into disarray during his likely-to-be-lengthy exile. It is a comfort to know that if I keep engaging in these painful dinners, I will be rewarded with honey. Precious sweet honey. Perhaps I will share with Lady Branwen.

Soon, the plates are whisked away and Ganondorf is begging his leave. I cannot give it to him quick enough, glad to be rid of him. The serving women clear away the dishes and cloths and Link offers his arm to me, asking if he may escort me up the stairs to my tower. I nod my assent, glad for the moment with him. I want to share my thoughts, perhaps a tale or two before we both retire to bed.

"What had you so amused, my Princess?" he asks, gently squeezing my arm as we begin the climb up the stairs. I laugh. I cannot possibly expect him to follow my convoluted logic: I hardly managed. It was rather like the maze I had commissioned on the grounds back when I was eight and all was right with the world. It has fallen into disrepair now, but I remember how much the guards grumbled about the difficulty of patrolling what they called "Her Highness's Hedges."

"I was thinking about getting a kitten," I say, gently wiggling my fingers in a circular motion so that he will turn around and I can strip to my chemise and prepare for bed. Link and I have grown used to sharing such intimacies over the years and I hardly feel the need to make him leave the room when I am changing my clothes. I idly wonder what it would be like to have him undress me, have his work-roughened fingers play across my skin as he loosed my stays. It is a golden thought, gilded by empty dreams and false promises. We cannot be together.

I slip into bed and he takes his position on the stool next to me, picking up my favorite book of poetry and preparing to read me to sleep, lull me with the silken tones of his voice. It occurs to me that I do not want him to read tonight and I lay my hand against his, stopping him from opening the book.

"I think I would just like to talk, Link," I say softly, my nails tracing an imperceptible pattern on the back of his hand. He colors a little, but nods, easy and quiet as usual. He removes his hat, an intimacy he only grants me, and pulls my hand to his lips to kiss it. I close my eyes: it would be wonderful if that kiss could go further.

I have to satisfy myself with talking of cats and cannibals. Things of love are altogether too fleeting for a heart as bitter as mine, too golden for a heart filled with ash.


End file.
